This is going to be a few chapters long. I hope you don't mind.

Kurt was standing still in front the window of his room. His arms were crossed defensively over his chest and his eyes were dull. The cults had tampered with his head, and his priesthood was now a far-off dream. Logan let himself in and placed himself behind Kurt. The pious man had so many times comforted him, now it was his turn. Not that it bothered Logan the slightest to have Kurt back from celibate. He'd missed his friend, and he intended to show it. He wrapped his arms around the slim waist and rested his chin on Kurt's shoulder. He made sure that Kurt knew he was there. He'd been more than jumpy lately. "Logan?" Kurt's voice was raspy, "Listen, Elf, you've been through a lot lately. Why not let good ole' Logan take care o' ya, huh?" He stroked the rough leather of Kurt's uniform and found the zipper on his collar. "I miss ya, Elf." He pulled it down and touched Kurt's fur, enjoying the softness of it. "Yer makin' me worried." He didn't notice that Kurt wasn't responding to his notions. He kissed his neck and was about to bite down into the blue down and flesh. He hadn't marked Kurt for such a long time.

"Stop it." Kurt's voice came abruptly and ice cold in the quiet room. "Wha?" Logan removed his mouth from his neck, but it wasn't before Kurt faced him that he had to let go of his waist. "I studied to become a priest, Logan, and even though that is not the case anymore, this… relationship is not fitting." Logan didn't believe what he heard. Here he'd been, keeping his hands off like a good boy, and once he tries, he gets slapped? "You've studied for what… half a month, an' yer already a homophobe?" "I am not, you know I am not. But two people sleep together; they should have something that you and I don't." That was all Logan heard. Kurt was nowhere to be found in the voice. "Which would be?" He didn't want to hear the answer, but he had to. "Love. Our relationship is based on pleasure, Logan." What the hell was he talking about? Pleasure? Nothing more? "We slept together the night before Jean sacrificed herself, as comfort. It hasn't changed. I still offer myself when your girlfriends leaves you, or are killed. And now, you are trying to get me to bed, so that you can make me forget about the things I've been through. We care about one another, I am sure, but we do not love." Desperation welled up inside the smaller man. Anger, too. He'd been alive for heaven knows how long, and still he was being lectured about something he knew much too well. Logan was fully aware of the gap between love and pleasure. But he was not a man of words, as proved many a time; there was no way he could explain Kurt this. He was sure that Kurt had understood that there was more to their sexual encounters than just… well, sex. "But I do love ya! Yer my best friend! I'd go kill myself if I lost ya!" He'd do it if he found a way. "Don't say such things." Kurt warned. "I'll say whatever I want! How dare ya think I just fucked ya fer the fun o' it?" Kurt drew back and swallowed. "Lower your voice, please." Logan was angered beyond reason. His eyes looked wild and his mouth was drawn back into a big grin. But he was growling furiously. "What? Embarrassin' if anyone got ta know, huh? That the goody-goody-two-shoe priest wannabe loves it up the ass, and happens ta do it with the worst guy imaginable?" Logan felt his eyes tear up in anger, and he held his face in his hands. He released a tiny, sharp and ironic laughter. "Fuck it, Elf, sorry… Father Wagner." He said it like it was venom. "I thought we had something." Kurt's face looked pain filled, but he remained silent. Logan marched out of the room.

Kurt's POV:

I licked my lips, but my tongue was too dry. I knew too well I had not done right in telling Logan that we had to 'break up', but what else was there to do? I was sinning in three ways. Firstly: I wanted Logan to have someone to love, it could not be me and it was wrong to hold him back. Secondly: I wanted the same for myself, and he was holding me back from getting that. Thirdly: I had to lie by saying that it was only friendship between us.

That night I had troubles sleeping. Each little sound I heard caused me to sit up in the belief that it was Logan entering my room. He never came.

The next morning I didn't see him until training time. The Danger Room had used to be a room of both play and seriousness for me. Now, it felt like neither. I didn't want to fight anymore. I had realized that I was caught between priesthood and my role as an X-Man. Where was I supposed to go from there? I did not want to fight anymore, but I still struggled with even looking at a church without feeling nervous. So I simply disarmed the robots attacking us, instead of destroying them. Then deciding I wasn't of anymore use, I walked out from the battlefield. It was nearly over anyway.

All of a sudden, I was slammed against the metal wall and had one claw on each side of my neck. I coughed slightly, "Logan, you're hurting me." His eyes got that mad look he had had back in the art room and his body was uncomfortably close my own. "Yea, I guess I am. But am I gunna give a fuck? That's the real question here." I struggled, but the mid-claw neared rapidly. "What are you saying? What are you doing?" I wheezed. "I'm just playing your game, Elf. An' I've always been a rough player." I got desperate and tried helplessly to claw at Logan's arm. Nobody had noticed us. The robots that were left were giving them a hard time. "Let go of me!" I begged. No use. The fear of being pierced by the adamantium kept me in place. I couldn't teleport. There! Now the mid-claw pointed at my neck. I leaned my head back and drew in breath in small, greedy gulps between my fangs.

Logan was even closer to me now. We were practically chest to chest. He was so oddly still, like he was pondering. "I'd mark ya with my claws." He said it in a tone that made Emma's voice feel like a summer day. The claws disappeared for a second, then came back with the second pair and wound up to my wrists, holding me firmly stuck. "But that would just make everyone wonder, huh? An' you dun' like that. Ya always hated attention towards the person that's screwing you." I gave a small yelp when a very familiar tongue ran up my neck. I hadn't dared lower my chin, in fear of having him cutting me. He moved towards my collarbone and growled like he used to 'How dare you!', I wanted to scream. Fortunately, Cyclops came to my rescue.

"Nightcrawler, Wolverine! What is going on here?" Logan huffed, released me and marched out of the Danger room. "Nuthin', Shades. Was just talkin' with'im."

I sank down, clutching my throat. "Kurt, are you ok?" Kätchen kneeled down and touched my shoulder. "Yes, Kitty. Logan is a dangerous playmate, you know. It seems I haven't learned yet." I tried to laugh, but gagged instead and coughed.

Dinner was as lively as ever, and I caught Logan looking at me more than one time. He had the look in his eyes that meant he knew he had gone too far. But he was too proud to say sorry. It didn't matter. He was easy to forgive. Heaven knows I hadn't made things easy on him. I tried to smile at him, but he looked away. The meal kept on for a few moments more, but suddenly, Logan's chair creaked as he got up and left without a word. I placed my fork beside my plate, asked to be excused and followed him.

"You enjoy bein' in danger, Kid?" I rubbed my arm and cleared my throat. He had chosen the porch for his brooding, and was smoking one of his cigars. I had grown used to the smell over the years, but never stopped to marvel at how bitter it smelled. "I shouldn't have attacked ya. I'm really sorry about that." Of course I had no proper reply to that other than: "Why does it have to be like this, Logan? You've had numerous lovers before me. It shouldn't be a problem to let me go." He turned around and bared his teeth. "But it is, you twit!" He closed in, and for once, I decided not to pull away. "Unlike my past lovers, you ain't dead, or tryin' ta kill me. You bein' here is drivin' me crazy and yer scent…I swear, Hadn't it been fer these babies," At this he held up his cigar, "I'd wouldn't be standin' here know, I'd be humpin' yer leg. Smell is a pretty strong sense, Elf." He reached out and touched my cheek. He'd told me about it before. He said that he liked my scent, despite the sulfur. He said that the pheromones I released from my body triggered his instinct. It was difficult for him to explain, but I think I gathered the most important parts. His animal-side enjoyed my scent, which made me an optional mate, while his human-side liked my personality and enjoyed my company. But that was all that there were to it, wasn't it?

"You don't love me." I knew he shouldn't have said that. I sounded like an echo, even to myself. Logan withdrew his hand and backed off about half a meter. "Are you in my head? Are ya a telepath?" He muttered through gritted teeth. "No, but…" Logan reached out and grabbed the golden cross around my neck; it came of with a snap. I started a little. Father Dominic, the man that had introduced me to my religion, gave me that cross. Logan knew that. He stood for a brief moment and studied it. "Just 'cause ya wear this piece o' metal… just 'cause ya read letters on paper that thousands of people have translated and added scripture to… that suddenly makes ya an expert on my feelings? Sorry, Elf. I am a lot more complicated than that." He tossed the cross down and stepped on it. "That is how much I care fer that damn religion-shit yer preachin'." He informed cooly, flipping the last stub of cigar away.

If Logan in any way had intended to enrage me, it worked. A fuse went off in my head and my vision turned blood red. All the rage I had kept pent up since I had taken a vow to follow God's way and become a man of the church, and this, Logan's sudden need for my body, his attacking me in the danger room and this. His mockery of all I kept sacred. All these elements mixed and resulted in a violent, perfect fury. I howled and threw myself at him, head first. We fell off the porch, breaking it in the process. I held Logan down and clawed his face repeatedly, shouting over and over again: "I hate you, I hate you, I HATE YOU!" And all the time, Wolverine smiled in triumph, provoking his me further. "That's it. Good boy. Get it all out, Elf." "SHUT UP!" I clawed up his face and neck, enjoying the sight of his blood.

I have never been more terrified of myself. I saw myself doing it, and enjoying it, and not before I was pulled violently away from him that I realized fully what I had done.